Sunday, 20 December 2015

2015 Albums of the Year: Top 30

Well, here we are again, folks. Enough of the platitudes, it really has all been said before,
hasn't it? You know why we're here. Time to get on with it. Apologies in advance
for the verbosity. I'd advise to stick the kettle on and grab a tin of
biscuits. Once you've done that, I hope you enjoy.

30.

Artist: Tess Parks & Anton Newcombe

Album: I Declare Nothing

Label: A Records

The simplistic
approach is often the best. Anton Newcombe knows this as well as anyone,
lending his sonic aptitude to Tess Parks for what is dubbed her sophomore
effort in I Declare Nothing. It’s an album
with simple chord progressions underneath the Parks' bourgeoning vocals. A
voice hidden beneath a foggy obscurity and cigarettes, which operates deep in
the heart of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s a voyage of academia in some respects.
Newcombe has almost taken Parks under his wing in order to nurture and harness
these songs. I Declare Nothing is the
result of that. The sound of Sunday morning.

It’s hard to pinpoint
key tracks, as one track bleeds into another, blurring the lines of peaks and
troughs, consequently making I Declare
Nothing a well balanced affair. ‘Wehmut’ sees Newcombe stamp his authority
within the first three chords, with vibes reminiscent of the exceptional...And This is Our Music. ‘German
Tangerine’ showcases Parks' raspy vocal pipes alongside droning keyboard and
gentle snare drums. It almost sounds like a track Mazzy Star couldn’t quite
capture. The final two tracks, ‘Meliorist’ and the fantastic closing encounter
that is ‘Friendlies’ end the album in impressive fashion, with the latter
arguably the album’s finest moment.

The cynics may say
these songs are merely worthy of gathering around the campfire to. Others may
say they are the product of a world class coffee house strumming duo, or at
worst a Mazzy Star tribute. All rather lazy depictions, as there’s so much more
to I Declare Nothing. This is an ode
to the sixties and seventies. Joplin, Mitchell, Lennon, Drake. All the
influences are buried within. And like everything Newcombe leaves his
fingerprints on, it’s done very well.

Favourite Tracks: German
Tangerine,Meliorist, Friendlies.

29.

Artist: Steve Von Till

Album: A Life Unto Itself

Label: Neurot Recordings

For many that like their sounds hard, heavy, and
progressive, Steve Von Till is a household name. Many would claim Neurosis to
be the pioneers
of the progressive metal genre and, all told, it’s a difficult point to argue.
It’s Von Till’s body of work away from Neurosis that both surprises and pleases
in equal measure. Firstly, there’s his Harvestman project; a primary focus on
ambient incursions, influenced by the latter half of the Neurosis discography.
Then there’s his solo project. The man himself and his trusty guitar. He’s made
several solid records, perhaps none better than his latest oeuvre, A Life Unto Itself.

It’s a record that has a
desolate feel. You can almost sense the dark buzzing of trees outside a
barnyard, in the hills of Von Till’s native Idaho. The title track illustrates
this – a brooding traipse, as Von Till’s trademark gravelly vocals take centre
stage along steel pedal guitar. 'In Your Wings' is a happy marriage between the
ominous tones Von Till has carved out with Neurosis and a rich acoustic
aesthetic enhanced by the craftsmanship from the soundboards by producer,
Randall Dunn. Dunn's ability to squeeze the essence out of each song is an
aptitude currently unmatched.

Along with Chelsea Wolfe's Abyss,
this hybrid of dark folk reaches its peak through ‘Birch Bark Box'. Its
reverberating drone and Von Till’s asphalt-rough groans outweigh most folk
tracks put to record this year. Following is the haunting undercurrents of
‘Chasing Ghosts’. It seems like a fitting backdrop for a post-apocalyptic
wasteland.

Aside from his work with
Neurosis, A Life Unto Itself is
arguably Von Till's landmark moment. It casts a very similar aesthetic to
Marissa Nadler’s July. It’s no coincide
that Randall Dunn was also at the helm on that particularly record. Dunn’s efforts
on A Life Unto Itself shouldn’t go
unnoticed and is yet another string to the bow of one of the finest producers
in music today.

In the age of all things
digital there's usually the odd band throwing out a record or two for free. This
year it was Wilco's turn to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world of
all things disposable, releasing a free album of their own; the follow-up to The Whole Love in the thirty-four minute
treasure aptly titled Star Wars.

Star Wars is an album which showcasesWilco at their most eclectic. The 1
minute 16 second kraut rock explosion of 'EKG' is most notably Wilco's greatest what
the fuck? moment. Almost to the point where you think Wilco has given their
audience anything but a Wilco album.

Things soon become family,
though. 'More' is Jeff Tweedy at his best, the track easily good enough to
rival anything on Yankee Hotel Foxtel,
for mine. 'Random Name Generator' is a no-nonsense downright rocker thanks to
the Nels Cline guitar wig out. 'You Satellite' will have most A Ghost is Born devotees screaming from
the rooftops, while 'Where do I Begin' will have a similar effect on those who hold
Summerteeth close to their heart. 'Magnetized is acaptivating end to Star Wars.
Once again, Tweedy is the focal point as he sings perhaps the finest sequence
of lyrics from the album. "I sleep underneath/A picture that I keep of you next to me/I realise
we're magnetized". It's vintage Tweedy.

As far as scope is
concerned, Star Wars really does have
it all. Wilco's ability to encapsulate their body of work in such a short space
of time is some accomplishment. Wilco fans will lap this up, while it's a good
entrance point for new ears, too. Most bands at their age would be content in
knocking out a bunch of songs that don't stray too far from familiarity. Not
Wilco, though. Star Wars clearly
demonstrates their enthusiasm to keep on breaking their own boundaries.

British post-punk pioneers,
Wire, have always operating outside of the box. In many ways this makes them
ahead their time. Look no further than their 1977 debut, Pink Flag. A timeless record that goes
down for many as one of the greatest British post-punk debut LP’s. Their
follow-up, Chairs Missing,didn’t disappoint, either, garnering
just as many plaudits.

Since then, Wire's sonic
eclecticism has fascinated many an ear. It’s hard to imagine the same band that
released Pink Flag were also the
architects of A Bell Is a Cup. That’s
Wire, though. Their approach to consistently shift the goal posts is a facet many
have come to expect.

Wire is the band’s fourteenth
long player. Since 2008’s Object 47,
many have claimed Wire to be in a renaissance of sorts and I can’t argue. The
aforesaid album - along with 2010’s Red
Barked Tree - are among the band’s finest outings, in my opinion. Enter Wire. Another instalment of audible
prominence. The self-titled affair was conceived during the band’s numerous
tours throughout various parts of the world. Having been lucky enough to see
them live last year, tracks such the melodic ‘Blogging’, the ethereal ‘In Manchester’
and the downright show-stopping rocker in ‘Harpooned’ were played and at the
time - despite the unfamiliarity - sounded great and on record sound just as
good, if not better.

New guitarist, Matthew
Simms, has introduced new elements to the band, and provides a nice foil for
Colin Newman to impose his dry wit on his audience. ‘High’ is injected with
those hard hitting chords that work well in tandem with Newman’s lovely melody.
‘Split Your Ends’ is the best track on Wire.
It’s an infusion of vintage Wire and
the new incarnation of the band.

Wire revealsitself slowly. It’s a common trait when you associate with this
band. They are not an instant proposition and never have been. The proof of
their grandeur lies with Newman and his mysterious ability to flesh out the
perfect melody. In this case Wire is
no different. There are mutterings of a new album in 2016, entitled Read & Burn 04, which are cuts taken
from the Wire sessions. If it's anything as good as Wire, then I can't wait.

My Morning Jacket
have always polarised opinion. A little too weird for those claiming the likes
of Band of Horses and Fleet Foxes are the best things since sliced loaf. A
little too simplified for the avant-garde clique. They have always been a band ostensibly
uncomfortable in their own skin, which has made for some interesting moments;
particularly in the latter stages of their career.

Z
was their magnum opus. Of that there is
little doubt. Many panned Z’s
follow-up and the very much left of centre Evil
Urges. I dug it. Many also panned the dark meanderings which formed Circuital. I dug it. The Waterfall? Well, you get the
picture.

All told, The Waterfall is their best effort since
the genre defining Z.The thematic scope, like the musical one, is
far and wide, despite the band still playing to its strengths. The opening
notes of ‘Believe’ grip you instantly. This is very much My Morning Jacket at their
best with the track's groovy incursions knocking on the door of southern
boogie. The breezy soul-rock of ‘Compound Fracture’ follows up in fine fashion,
while ‘Like a River’ showcases Jim James’ trusty falsetto. In fact, it’s never sounded
better!

Many will regard ‘In
its Infancy (The Waterfall)’ as the album’s standout track, but that title goes
to the album closer, ‘Only Memories Remain’. It’s a number that would have made
George Harrison proud. My Morning Jacket have always been capable of penning a
slower jam, thus portraying the ability to incapacitate their listener. This
song may just be the finest slower turn they’ve ever written.

“It’s a thin line
between loving and wasting my time,” sings Jim James on ‘The Thin Line’. I
can’t help but think these words form as an ironic taunt towards the naysayers.
The Waterfall might not broaden My
Morning Jacket's audience but it will certainly give those ingrained within the
My Morning Jacket brethren some hope that maybe the best is yet to come from
the Louisville natives.

Favourite Tracks: Believe, In its Infancy (The Waterfall),
Tropics, Only Memories Remain.

25.

Artist: Destruction Unit

Album: Negative Feedback Resistor

Label: Sacred Bones Records

Starting out in the
early 2000s, Arizona’s Destruction Unit (better known as D-Unit to their
loyalists) have gradually morphed into something of a sonic stalwart as far as the
American underground garage scene is concerned. Surprisingly, Negative Feedback Resistor, the band’s
seventh long player, has gathered less favourable reviews. I’ll call a spade a
spade here. In a scene that has its fair share of mediocrity,
I firmly believe that Negative Feedback
Resistor stands alone as a juggernaut of its genre. It really holds all the
keys and is bolstered by the work behind the soundboards from the likes of The
Icarus Line’s Joe Cardamone and The Men’s Ben Greenberg.

‘Disinfectant’ sets
out the stalls with a maelstrom of power chords, which is quickly followed
by the sonic vitality of album highlight, ‘Proper Decay’. Destruction Unit aren't
afraid to stretch things out, either. ‘Chemical Reaction/Chemical Delight’ is a
prolonged dose of bruising pulp-rock, rife with murky psychedelic reverb.

Destruction Unit’s Negative Feedback Resistor feels like
the sound of a pulpy horror movie. Its aesthetic, a pulverising form of tombstone
garage rock. It’s something you could ascribe to being punk, but the
musicianship is too tight to wrap itself completely around the genre. Frontman,
Ryan Rousseau’s howls are reminiscent of the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster
frontman, Guy McKnight . Either that or Elvis Presley in your worst nightmare. His
venomous delivery is simply what makes this so good, while the musicianship is not
to be sneezed at, either. It’s not the loose baroque essence of punk. It’s all brawn,
freight-train fast and perceptively dangerous. Take the speed of The Men, the
danger of The Icarus Line and precision of Pissed Jeans and you have Negative Feedback Resistor here and at
your service.

While Queens of the
Stone Age have gone somewhat artier in their recent years of existence, not to
mention the Melvins currently finding themselves on a creative plateau, this
has left somewhat of a void to be filled in the stoner rock brethren. Enter
West Country trio, Henry Blacker.

Firstly, Henry
Blacker are an offshoot from the irrepressible sonic purveyors otherwise known
as Hey Colossus (who themselves have made two stellar long players this year). Secondly, 'Blacker's
sophomore album, Summer Tombs, is
2015’s hidden treasure for all stoner fiends and is a mightily strong follow-up
to last year’s excellent debut, with the equally excellent title, Hungry Dogs Will Eat Dirty Puddings.

Any album which opens
with a track called ‘Cold Laking’ (is it not one of the best song titles you’ve
heard this year?) is worthy of instant attention. Ironically, Henry Blacker are
after anything but fame, drugs and
blowjobs. This is nuts and bolts DIY at its finest. A bunch of blokes in a
garage in England’s West Country just swigging cider (stereotype?), smoking grass
and belting out ditties. And mighty fine ones, too. The rumbling distortion is
enough to make one’s bowels twitch. Frontman, Tim Farthing’s vocals shift gears
nicely between heavy wails and what can be described as spoken word, creating
a stimulating juxtaposition in front of reverberating fuzz and distortion.

Summer
Tombs is a thirty-two minute clamour of balls to
wall no-frills rock. There’s not a weak moment on ‘Tombs. From ‘Cold Laking’ to the foot-stomping ‘Landlubber’ to the
sludgy closing title track, this is pure butcher-raw stoner rock. Unforgiving
and unpretentious, Henry Blacker deliver heart-on-sleeve swagger and their fans
love them all the more for it.

Favourite Tracks: Cold Laking, Landblubber, Summer Tombs.

23.

Artist: The Declining Winter

Album: Home for Lost Souls

Label: Home Assembly

The elusive project of
Leeds based The Declining Winter is one where the remnants of cult-heroes, Hood,
lives on. The brains trust of both projects, Richard Adams, bends the aesthetic
of Hood into more of an acoustic laden nicety with The Declining Winter.

Like many of Hood’s
releases, The Declining Winter's third LP, Home
for Lost Souls, was subject to a first pressing of a measly 250 copies. For
the first time in the band's history, a repress was done for a further 400 copies
to appease their affectionate factions. With good reason, too, as Home' adds further weight to the band's
already impressive catalogue of work. In fact, I'd go as far to say that it's
their best effort yet. It was certainly the first album released this year that
floored me.

The title track evolves
with a slow forlorn guitar riff that threatens to break into some form of pop
lament. ‘It Is Intensely Sad’ really is just that. It feels like the sonic
backdrop of an imagery consisting of sweeping winds across the Pennines. ‘Hurled
to the Curb’ is a psychedelic post-rock journey that almost sounds like Graham
Sutton of Bark Psychosis joining forces with Flying Saucer Attack’s David
Pearce. ‘The Right True End’ is the longest track on the album and its finest; a
meandering ode to rural psychedelia and a pastoral aesthetic that goes
unrivalled.

Adams’ ghostly murmurs, along with beautifully crafted instrumentation, help Home for Lost Souls convey an imagery of
a wet northern Sunday morning, revelling in the satire of rural psychedelia. The
Declining Winter offer rich textures, evoking a real sense of place, which is
vastly lost in today's musical landscape. Proper Northern soul? I believe so.
In many ways, as strange as it sounds, Home
for Lost Souls it's as close to a rock record as Richard Adams and The
Declining Winter will ever make.Favourite Tracks: This Sadness Lacks, Home for Lost Souls, Hurled to the Curb, The Right True End.

22.

Artist: Julia Holter

Album: Have You In My Wilderness

Label: Domino

Julia Holter’s
artistic output has always intrigued me. Similar to Chelsea Wolfe, her albums
have always provided captivating moments but have struggled to maintain the
longevity of greatness over the course of an album’s length. Ekstasis grew close to the point where
you thought Loud City Song would
indeed be that album. For me, it came
up short.

Have
You In My Wilderness, Holter’s fourth LP, is a
pop album nestled in the framework of avant-garde. Like Jim O’Rourke’s Simple Songs, the surface appears
straightforward but as each listen passes, this album reveals itself with
thought-provoking juxtapositions and spectacular virtuoso. In summary, this is that album!

From front to back,
there are highlights. Holter presents one of her finest tracks with opener,
‘Feel You’. Its melody, complex but rendered with a fine pop sensibility.
‘Lucette Stranded on the Island’ is an opaque journey backed by elegant strings
and haunting synth. ‘Sea Calls Me Home’ is the centre piece of the album, as
Holter orchestrates ghostly melodies, horn sections and rich-laden strings; over
the course of her four albums, you would be hard pressed to find a more
dramatic moment. ‘Every Time Boots’ is Holter at her most simplistic. This track
would be a pop marvel if someone like Adele chose to cover it.

The piano dirge
of ‘Betsy on the Roof’ is arguably the album’s highlight, with Holter's imposing
vocal range coupled with the track's solemn undertones really capturing the spirit
of Have
You In My Wilderness. An album thatis easily Holta’s most sonically approachable to date. Along with it
being her most personal record, it’s also her finest and one that will most likely
broaden her audience.

Another year, another
reformed band makes a new album. Such news is met with snide contempt from
some, whereas others choose to revel in the nostalgia. The Pop Group have been
back together for a few years now, sporadically performing live shows here and
there. Their comeback opus, Citizen
Zombie, sees them moving on from their DIY beginnings, which created a
milieu of discordance equating to the landmark album that was Ys. An essential to the post-punk genre.

Citizen
Zombie broadens the groundwork of Mark Stewart’s The Politics of Envy (a brilliant
accomplishment in its own right and an album previously championed on this blog). Citizen’s aesthetic is far friendlier
to the ear and sonically, perhaps less nascent. That may deter some,
particularly the pessimists, but to me it makes the experience all the more
enjoyable. Citizen Zombie could almost
be classed as a new brand of dance-punk. The spatial balladry of 'Nowhere Girl’ sees
Stewart and his comrades venture to new pastures. The architect himself providing
what could be described as the perfect melody.

The Pop Group quickly
revert back to their bread and butter, though. ‘Shadow Child’ operates deep in
the dub-funk milieu, as Stewart’s
trademark shrieks are ever-present. ‘S.O.P.H.I.A’ could certainly attests to the
new form of democratic dance-punk, as Stewart shouts "Assume nothing/Deny
everything/ Assume nothing/Everything/Everything".

Aside from sound,
Stewart’s ideology remains at the ready. The opening title track is a spiteful
indictment on modern society and those claiming to be our leaders. It's vintage Stewart with his polemic retorts and constant asking of
questions. Citizen Zombie won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. In fact, most will either
love it or hate it. That’s where The Pop Group has stood during the beginning,
though. In fact, in many respects that‘s what makes The Pop Group, indeed, The
Pop Group.

Some had claimed that
Rodney Smith, A.K.A. Roots Manuva had lost his zest, teetering on the edge of
non-pertinence. That’s when art is at its best, though. When creativity rises
above the status quote and the collective voice of cynicism. Smith has used
this cynicism as a manifesto to create one of his finest triumphs in Bleeds.

Bleeds
is real. Bleeds
is dark. In fact, it’s one of the darkest sounding hip hop records I’ve
heard in a long time. It doesn’t hide behind misogyny or any other suspect allegories
currently infested in the genre. It’s direct and it hits in all the right
places. Bleeds is a pure stream of
social consciousness.

I'm not qualified to elaborate
on the importance of these songs (I’m just a normal bloke after all). From the
raw emotional travails of ‘Hard Bastards’ and ‘Crying’, this one-two punch is filled
with a menacing undercurrent for the masses to wake up. It’s a base for the
final eight tracks to flourish. ‘Don’t’ Breathe Out’ is almost a head nod to
soul. ‘Cargo’ is an acidic number with haunting piano and Manuva’s baritone
flow which transforms into a banging chorus. Then there's ‘I Know Your Face’. If
'Crying' wasn't enough to get you dewy-eyed than this foray certainly will.

Unlike most acclaimed
hip hop albums, Bleeds doesn’t
outstay its welcome by incessant braggario and misguided anger. Its message is
clear and very direct. Some maymight not like Bleeds
because of this but it’s exactly why
people should be lauding this effort. It's a call to arms for the masses to
wake up and take notice. With Bleeds, Roots
Manuva has presented an ominous snapshot of the stark realism which exists, making
this one of the purest representations in hip hop for quite some time.

There’s a good chance Jim
O’Rourke is among your record collection without you even knowing it. Wilco’s A Ghost is Born? How about Sonic Youth’s
Murray Street or Sonic Nurse? Jim O’Rourke helped shaped these three albums into the
landmarks they truly are. Then there’s his very much decorated experimental
catalogue, and that’s not even delving into gold dust that is Insignificance or Eureka; his more ‘conventional’ affairs.

Simple Songs can attest to those
conformist sounds which made Insignificance
feel like O’Rourke’s road to Damascus moment. O'Rourke reaches these accessible
points in a rather complex fashion. He orchestrates these moments
symphonically. Just like the album’s moniker, O'Rourke has always rendered somewhat
ironic song titles. This time around it's ‘Half Life Crisis’ which is arguably the
best of the bunch.

‘Friends with Benefits’ has
an air of similarity with some of the tracks off Lee Ranaldo’s Between the Times and the Tides. It’s a
nice way to ease the listener in. ‘Hotel Blue’ is an art-rock traipse. It’s
laden with strings and a melody David Bowie would be proud of. Simple Songs really builds up a head of
steam from here. ‘Last Year’ has an aesthetic not too dissimilar to moments
from Insignificance. ‘End of the
Road’ is one of the slowest tracks O’Rourke has done, rife with slow piano,
which builds and ends with more art-rock pastiche. ‘All Your Love’ ends Simple Songs in fine fashion with
rumbling free-form drums and more melodic piano which O’Rourke has employed
with aplomb throughout the album’s thirty-eight minute duration.

While Simple Songs could very well
rival the aforementioned magnum opus, O'Rourke yet again demonstrates his
idiosyncratic interpretation of a genre that normally associates its sound
with more user-friendly purveyors. That's why O'Rourke's music fascinates.

Favourite
Tracks: Friends with Benefits, Last Year, End of the
Road, All Your Love.

18.

Artist: Editors

Album: In Dream

Label: PIAS

Birmingham’s Editors are a
vastly different animal from the one many grew familiar with yesteryear. Apart
from their most devoted followers who harboured the collective thought that The Back Room and An End Has to Start were British indie music triumphs, others
quickly tired of the band’s following two records. They appeared slightly aimless
and illustrated a band that was quickly running out of steam. I won’t lie. I’d
almost forgotten about the Editors.

Some may think the Birmingham outfit have overreached with their fifth LP, In Dream. Perhaps plausible, however on the
flipside you can hear a band that has totally reinvented itself. Isn’t that
what creating something is all about? Are Editors back? I believe so, but not
as we once knew them and that is the greatest aspect of In Dream.

‘No Harm’ is a gloomy opening affair, manifesting from frontman, Tom Smith's capacity to
capture a poignant obscurity. It's a track which instantly grabs you, as Smith opening
lines contain the lyrics of "I'll
boil easier than you/Crush my bones into glue/I'm a go-getter". The new
sonic experimentations during In
Dream provide a worthy backdrop for Smith's brooding missives. Slowdive’s Rachel Goswell makes a much
welcomed appearance throughout the record, too. 'Ocean of Night' is a melody
driven affair that is reminiscent of the 2005 version of Editors, with
grumbling bass lines providing a bridge to the new sonic incarnation of the band,
where pianos and Goswell’s sweet harmonies arrive a with renewed vigour.

From this point Editors of
2015 takes hold. Okay, so the chorus of ‘Forgiveness’ could pose as background noise
during the rolling credits of a BBC drama. I’ll give you that. However these
moments are very few. ‘Salvation’ is a stirring number led by sparse piano and clever
electronic incursions. ‘Life is a Fear’ and ‘Our Love’ descend from a 1980s dancefloor;
the latter a captivating clash between the new wave and rock music. It's one of
the few times such fusions don't pass off an unpleasant whiff of manufactured shit.

Where almost every other
post-punk collective is gnawing at the carcass Joy Division, Editors have broadened
their appetite, instead turning to the likes of Jon Hopkins’ Immunity; a distinct influence throughout
In Dream. Look no further than the
final closing track, ‘Marching Orders’. It’s the track that illustrates Editors’
sea change as complete and I have to say, it's a mighty fine one at that.

After eight years in the
wilderness (see what I did there? Okay, I’ll grab my coat), Mercury Rev are
back with another offering of auditory pleasure in The Light In You. As time goes on, it would be fair to say Mercury
Rev are at the stage where their followers are pretty much set in stone. Euphemistically
it may suggest they are getting a bit long in the tooth, however their creative
outfit remains unwaveringly pertinent.

Naysayers may say that The Light In You won't turn heads the
way that seminal albums Deserter's Songs
and All Is Dream did, but I tend to
disagree. Like All Is Dream, patience
is required to feel the full force of The
Light In You and given the modern day listening habits, albums like this
may never receive the plaudits they deserve.

Opening track ‘The Queen of
Swans’ is majestic, its glacial sound effects creating an otherworldly fantasy
vibe, which Mercury Rev have made their own since the band's humble beginnings.
‘Amelie’ follows-up from the impressive start with a richly orchestrated coalition
of sounds. Suffice to say, there are plenty of other highlights through TLIY, too.The rocking
‘Are You Ready?’ provides a nagging bass line which is positioned in front of an array of rich sounds effects, raining from the sonic skies. Mercury Rev change it up,
too, swimming in new waters with the upbeat closing track, ‘Rainy Day Record’.
It's a fist full of anthemic brass, not
too dissimilar to Broken Social Scene's 'It's All Gonna Break'.

Although mastermind, Dave Fridmann, isn't behind the soundboards on this
occasion, the Mercury Rev brains-trust in Jonathan Donahue and Sean "Grasshopper" Mackowiak are
the most obvious replacements and their efforts are one of reward. The ‘Rev’s
framework of fantasy-laden atmospherics remains steadfast. Their ability
to amalgamate fantasy and beauty has always been their strongest hand and like The Secret Migration and Snowflake Midnight, The Light In You continues these themes
both lyrically and sonically. Is this a reinvention of the wheel? Probably not.
However in this realm of rock music, Mercury Rev stand on their own feet and
not on the shoulders of giants. Quite simply when Mercury Rev produce new sounds
the world of music is a far better place with them around.

Favourite
Tracks: The Queen of Swans, Amelie, Central Park East, Are
You Ready, Rainy Day Record.

16.

Artist: Howlin' Rain

Album: Mansion Songs

Label: Easy Sound

Most associate Ethan
Miller as frontman of the much revered Comets On Fire. Although his earlier
workings throughout the Howlin’ Rain cannon consist of tracks rubbing shoulders
with the cut and thrust of Comets’ oeuvres, Miller has also used the Howlin'
Rain project as a juncture for his more conventional sounds.

During 2014’s Live Rain album, you could feel
something was changing for Miller. I’m not one to indulge in live albums but
this one provided a spark for me. That something appeared to be Mansion Songs. A lovely collection of
tracks that Miller could easily call his best.

Miller still revels
in the tried and trusted realm of ‘classic’ Howlin’ Rain. ‘Big Red Moon’ opens
up and is much a barnyard stomp as anything else he’s previously written. ‘Meet
Me in the Wheat’ could also be closely defined as such. It’s when Miller
slows things down that it starts to get interesting. ‘Coliseum’ is a simple
acoustic number with a pleasant melody, which pricks the ear. ‘Restless’ is an
eloquent unhurried number that could have made it onto Almost Famous as Stillwater’s slow turn ditty. ‘Lucy Fairchild’
is probably the best number Miller has written under the Howlin’ Rain moniker,
with rich pianos and a spell-binding melody, showcasing his phenomenal vocal
range.

Just when you think
it couldn’t get better than ‘Lucy Fairchild’, album closer ‘Ceiling Fan’ hands
down transforms this album from a good one to a great one. Miller’s softly
spoken words form a poetic tour-de-force which takes us through the streets of
London and through the era of literary genius, with Larkin, Ballard, and Blake
forming the basis of this journey. Miller sings the simple but equally stunning
melody “I save one line for you/All forgiveness”. It’s a perfect track and one
of my favourites of 2015.

Mansion
Songs is an accomplishment where Miller really
spreads his wings. It's an album that has shifted the axis of the collective
mindset. Where many view him as the guy from Comets On Fire who also happens to
make Howlin' Rain records, the latter project should now be the focal point
upon which the masses view Ethan Miller. Yes, Mansion Songs is that good, folks.

In this day and age making
two albums in a year is almost unheard of. Not only that, but on the rare
occasion when this does occur, the quality over the respective LPs usually
flounders. Not in the case of English underground stalwarts, Hey Colossus.
Choosing between their first 2015 opus, Black
and Gold, and their follow-up, Radio
Static High, was merely a case of splitting hairs. The latter came out on
top, though, winning by the proverbial coat of varnish.

Despite the band’s members being scattered throughout various parts of the United
Kingdom, Hey Colossus have been a part of a festering underground scene for
years now. Having a slew of LPs (nine in fact) within their garrison, not to
mention boasting just as impressive side projects (Henry Blacker being the most
notable), it's as much their choice as anyone's as to why they haven't reached a
wider audience. In their own words, this is just about hanging out with your
mates and banging out songs. In their case, the ditties are of a monolithic
variety.

Radio Static High is a bourgeoning
representation of Hey Colossus. It’s an assortment of genres viscerally enmeshed
to produce staggering results. These guys have impressive record collections.
You can feel it through the music they create. The opening title track is a
slow burning saunter, with droning riffs and reverberating tones. Quite a
contrast to 'March of the Headaches', which is a speaker blowing sludge-rock
stomp. 'Hesitation Time' may just been one of the best songs they've written and believe
me, this band have written some numbers (look no further than ‘Hot Grave’, an
exemplary cut from Cuckoo Live Life Like
Cuckoo). 'Hesitation Time' is a no-nonsense guitar-crunching number with cutting
synth and bludgeoning riffs. “The future is waiting/You better plan your
attack,” sings frontman, Paul Sykes. 'Honey' is the perfect end to this record,
intertwining all the elements which makes Radio Static High the proposition it
truly is.

Those who indulge in progressive metal will enjoy this as much as those who
delve into psychedelic and stoner rock. The Melvins, Boris, Earth, Dead Meadow.
It's all here on Radio Static High,
jam packed with impressive sonic textures spanning over ten finely crafted
songs that are presented in menacing fashion.

Favourite Tracks: Radio Static High, March of
the Headaches, Memories of Wonder, Hesitation Time, Honey.

﻿

14.

Artist: King Midas Sound/Fennesz

Album: Edition 1

Label: Ninja Tune

An album that has
seemingly slipped through the cracks for many, King Midas Sound and Christian
Fennesz have collaborated to present their imminent dread on a many an ear. In
many respects, Edition 1 is
everything you’d come to expect from such a collaboration. Kevin Martin is rightly
lauded in many quarters, however King Midas Sound is Roger Robinson’s outfit
just as much as Martin’s. That’s not to discard Kiki Hitomi, either. It’s just
that Robinson’s poetic dread is simply the fibre from which King Midas Sound
survive on.

The foggy backstreets
of London can be felt with Robinson’s poetic inflections. “I waited for you/You
never came,” (‘Mysteries’) and "Now we've lost our path to paradise/Up ahead
there's only stormy skies," (‘Waves’) are exactly the sort of musings we
are used to hearing from Robinson. He’s perfected these shadowy moments.
Fennesz’s contribution is subtle, with guitar glitches weaving in and out of
Martin’s crippling sonic drones. ‘Mysteries’ sets the tone. Fennesz subtle
guitar rumble provides the perfect foil for Robinson’s soulful vocal. ‘Waves’
and ‘Lighthouse’ are tracks which flow in a similar vein.

‘Above Water’ is a
sonic stand-off between Martin and Fennesz as the 14 minutes wall of avalanche-like
feedback poses as the album's quasi-intermission. ‘We Walk Together’ is
Hitomi’s time to shine as her unnerving vocal rises from the dark mist of
Martin’s pulsating drones.

Whilst Fennesz’s
involvement is subtle, it's effective on Edition
1. Those who fell in love with King Midas Sound’s Waiting for You will certainly find themselves besotted. If reports are to be believed,
this is the first of four collaborative efforts KMS intend to embark on. We
wait with bated breath.

Chelsea Wolfe has always
possessed a peculiarity that has made me gravitate towards her music. Some sort
of foggy spirit, or something. Preceding its release, once I saw the artwork of
Abyss I just felt that it was the
album that would finally reveal her potential. I’m glad I wasn’t wrong, as Abyss is Chelsea Wolfe’s seminal opus.

The themes of Abyss are centred on
Wolfe's sleep paralysis, making the album’s artwork somewhat of a literal piece.
In terms of sound, it's evident that Wolfe's association with artists portraying
heavier sonic leanings has influenced the structure of Abyss. 'Carrion Flowers' is a clear testament to this, with its low
end drone piercing through Wolfe's ethereal vocal.

The haunting figure that is
'Iron Moon' follows a similar path, with throbbing guitars and bass which make
your internal organs shudder. 'Maw' is arguably the best thing Wolfe has ever
written. Like the peculiar groove which comprises its chorus, 'Maw' is an elusive
track inspired by What Dreams May
Come, the 1998 film which starred the late Robin Williams. Wolfe and her
band haven’t sounded better during heavy dirge that is ‘Grey Days’. ‘Crazy
Love’ is a sorrowful stripped back acoustic number that moulds nicely around
the collective of songs which form Abyss.

Is Chelsea Wolfe a poet in a musician's body or a musician in a poet's body? I
suspect the answer lies somewhere in between. The poeticismduring Abyss is ubiquitous.
It’s a rich, brooding journey made all the more impressive by the sonic
incursions which augment Abyss’s
genius and fundamentally transform Chelsea Wolfe into the queen of rich
gothic-folk. If she isn’t America’s answer to PJ Harvey then I’m clearly missing
something.

With its members
spread across various continents, one gets the feeling that Self Defense Family
loosely define the notions of being a band. Perhaps a modern day
version of Fugazi without the personnel stability? Formerly named End of the Year,
Heaven is Earth is Self Defense
Family’s second album under their new moniker. Apart from frontman, Patrick
Kindlon, Self Defense Family seems to be more like a revolving door of
musicians creating sporadic art rather than a solidified collective that write
songs. Heaven Is Earth certainly
sounds like the latter, though. It consists of a melting pot of ideas; the sonic
scaffolding certainly centred on the origins of post-hardcore and British
post-punk.

Kindlon certainly
sounds like an insular figure of sorts, to the point where his lyrics – the
focal point – are hard to pin down. They have a hint of beat-poet about them.
Look no further than the oddly titled opener, 'In My Defens Self Me Defend'.

‘Talia’ – the album’s
first single – explodes with bending harmonicas and simmering pianos that function
below an atmospheric post-hardcore pastiche. ‘Prison Ring’ is more of a
reverence to early ‘00s indie rock and perhaps the most straightforward track
on the album. The title track is slowest on the record and seemingly the most
personal from a lyrical standpoint. ‘Dave Sim’ is the finest number on Heaven is Earth and a fitting closure to
a record that doesn’t weaken from start to finish. It's an anthemtic
fist-pumping foray presenting a gut-busting chorus that just about spells
democratic vitality.

It’s worth pointing
out that Kurt Ballou’s assistance behind the soundboards on Heaven Is Earth enhances the album’s capacity.
His production is crisp yet provides the raw and spatial textures which capture
what Self Defense Family are pushing for here. In conjunction with the songcraft from Kindlon, Heaven Is Earth is
a clear winner and one of the hidden gems in music released this year.

Favourite Tracks: Talia,
Prison Ring, Ditko, Dave Sim.

11.

Artist: Willis Earl Beal

Album: Noctunes

Label: Tender Loving Empire

Willis Earl Beal. A true
punk. A troubadour. A man undoubtedly misunderstood. Three years, three albums.
All of which are great, including his latest LP, Noctunes. As the title suggests, these songs were conceived during
night time meanderings in his humble abode of a trailer/caravan. During the
time of recording and release, he went through a divorce, spent a couple of
weeks in prison and still managed to produce an LP that gets to see the light
of day.

Noctunes
is a rollercoaster of emotions. Love, hate,
loss, hope; all the traits which have been at the forefront of Beal’s thematic
travails. It's not easy to digest, Noctunes.
It’s not an acquired taste, though. Patience is required for its essence to
seep in. Four of five listens in, it starts to make sense. You can feel Beal's
pain. ‘Flying So Low’ almost feels like the man is on the brink. ‘No Solution’
is a evocative dirge about his marriage breakdown, as he sings “I wanna say
something nice to you/I know I lost my wedding ring/The colours all faded
blue/Now I lost track of everything”. ‘Stay’ follows and, as its title
suggests, is just as gut-wrenching. ‘Able to Wait’ seems like a journey of hope. The last three tracks, ‘Survive’, ‘Start Over’ and the brilliant ‘1-2
Midnight’ are arguably the finest three tracks on the album and end this
emotional rollercoaster where you sense that all is not lost and that Willis
finds solace.

From start to finish,
Noctunes is Beal at his most
revealing. A true punk. A troubadour. No big studios, no hangers-on yearning
for fame or fictitious bravado. It's just a man knocking out stripped back awe-inspiring
songs. A true punk. A troubadour. People will laud the likes of Leon Bridges and
Benjamin Clementine, but Willis Earl Beal isn’t some manufactured poster boy
for the majors, nor is he a Mercury Music Prize nominee. No way. This man operates
on the ridges. A true punk. A troubadour. Noctunes
could very well be the vanguard of modern-day soul. In fact I’m quite certain
of it, even if most people can’t see Willis Earl Beal for what he truly is. A true
punk. A troubadour.

While Impersonator well and truly put Canadian
duo, Majical Cloudz, on the map, you sensed that the masses would soon tire of
the duo’s sonic simplicity. After all, what better way to knock an artist down
after building them up than to shred their much anticipated follow-up release?
I’m glad to say that Devon Welsh and Matthew Otto have the defied the odds of
the clichéd second album struggles with Are
You Alone?

Welsh focuses upon all
the things which teeter on the edge of romanticism; love, death, longing. Of
that he’s no different than any other romanticist. Majical Cloudz don't provide
the thespian back-drop, though, instead operating in a chamber-pop hybrid
that’s so revealing that it’s almost uncomfortable.

Are
You Alone? irrefutably has an alluring draw. While Impersonator felt very inward, Are You Alone? is very much an emotionally
outward record and because of this you sense it has the ability to reach a very
diverse audience, including listeners you wouldn’t associate as avid music fans,
per se.

The minimal lo-fi
skin and bone romanticism that is rife throughout these songs is very engaging.
The eeriness of ‘Control’. The pop aesthetic the title track has to offer. The chamber-pop
lament that is ‘So Blue’. The straightforwardness of ‘Downtown’. The glacial
soundscapes of album highlight, ‘Game Show’. These songs approach uncharted
territory for Majical Cloudz, essentially breaking their own boundaries.

There's something for
everybody on Are You Alone? The twee devotee
will enjoy this as much as the emo kid, not to mention that 'normal' guy. Just like the finest literature, passages on Are You Alone? can be construed as words
which feel as though they were written specifically for the you, the listener. Welsh
possesses an uncanny ability to evoke such emotions through his outward
missives. Given the medium in which he’s offered his sentiments, it’s a valiant
effort.

Favourite Tracks: Control,
Are You Along, So Blue, Downtown, Game Show.

9.

Artist: The Icarus Line

Album: All Things Under Heaven

Label: Agitated

Simply put, The Icarus Line
haven’t received the plaudits they deserve. If truth be told, they probably
never will, either. Over the last fifteen years they have delivered some of the
finest representation of guitar music put to record. Mono, Penance Soiree, and Slave
Vows are all beguiling experiences. In their own right, they all have one
thing in common. Each of these albums have a unique ability to make you feel
ten feet tall.

Alongside the
aforementioned long players, we can now include All Things Under Heaven; the band’s sixth oeuvre and easily their
most eclectic. I remember listening to Buddyhead’s Travis Keller interviewing Joe
Cardamone on the eve of the release of All
Things….. Cardamone described Los Angeles as something akin to a choose
your own adventure kids’ book. Strangely enough, this album has that exact
feel.

Opening track, 'Ready or Die', is a dirty, dangerous number brimming from all
corners of Los Angeles. Its prominent seventies garage rock pastiche would make
Iggy proud. 'Total Pandemonium' is exactly that, starting off with a whirring
keyboard drone which continues to stir underneath Cardamone's vicious howls. It
sounds as if the new incarnation of Swans and The Doors are engaging in an
outright pub brawl. 'El Cerno' slows it all down and sounds as if Cardamone has
kicked Nick Cave out of the studio and decided to front the Bad Seeds. Then
there’s the title track; an eerie impassioned spoken word expedition courtesy
of Joe Coleman, who turns the general consensus of common-sense completely on
its head.

While the 12 minute 27
seconds of guttural downer rock during ‘Incinerator Blue’ will mesmerise many, the
visceral inflections of ‘Solar Plexus’ transcend it, weaving in and out of the Penance’era of The Icarus Line. This time, though, it’s far a more
dangerous animal and one of the finest snapshots of this band. Funnily enough,
it could be argued that the finest moment during All Things Under Heaven comes at its final juncture in the elegant
‘Sleep Now’. Festering saxophones, droning keyboards and Cardamone’s tender vocals
morph this track into the most beautiful thing the band has written, yet again adding
another string to the bow of this rock ‘n’ roll behemoth.

I believe every city has a sound. I’ve never been to the place, but All things Under Heaven certainly feels
like an embodiment of Los Angeles. Or at least the Los Angeles I’ve viewed from
afar. Just like King Midas Sound have captured the fog of London. Just like
Bill Ryder-Jones encapsulates the witticism of Liverpool. And of course those
haunting moments one associates with Sigur Ros and Iceland. Add The Icarus Line
and Los Angeles to the list.
In some ways it's non-pertinent to rank albums such as All Things Under Heaven. Regardless of the digital age and people's
different listening habits, albums like this continue to reveal themselves as
the years pass. Should I be lucky enough to be still clinging to the mortal
coil in thirty years' time, I have little doubt that this is one album I will
be talking about.

As far as outer
expectations are concerned, Deafheaven have probably felt these pressures like
no other band. While Roads to Judah caused
a ripple in the ocean, the shift in attention Deafheaven experienced after the
release of the landmark Sunbather was
indeed seismic. Likened to Majical Cloudz, there were undoubtedly many with the
build ‘em up knock ‘em down approach with poison pens at the ready, only to
retreat when the band’s third submission, New
Bermuda, became audible.

Many will call this Deafheaven's
magnum opus, as the remnants of black metal and to a lesser extent, shoegaze,
have never reached audiences so far and wide. While New Bermuda is certainly exceptional, it would be prudent to
acknowledge the seeds which were planted yesteryear when Sunbather floored so many in its path.

George Clarke’s
vocals have taken a slight turn on New Bermuda.
The piercing throaty howls heard on Sunbather
and Roads to Judah have been replaced
by guttural shrieks, which almost appear rooted to the traditional origins of
metal. This is noticeable during his first interaction with listeners on
opener, ‘Brought to Water’. Guitarist Kerry McCoy’s majestic eclecticism shines
throughout, too. Sure, the fury is evident, but is tempered by pleasant ethereal
interludes and that’s down to McCoy's proficiency. ‘Luna’ stacks up alongside Deafheaven’s
finest work in ‘Tunnel of Trees’, ‘Dream House’ and ‘The Pecan Tree’. The last
four minutes is probing, as Clarke and McCoy collaborate in one of their most
powerful moments yet.

More than ever, there
is an array of influences on New Bermuda.
The beginning of ‘Baby Blue’ is a head nod to hip hop, as Daniel Tracy’s
drumming adds further dimensions to this ensemble. His drumming is dynamic from
front to back on ‘Bermuda. The solemn
dirge of ‘Come Back’ sounds like something Low, the Red House Painters, or
Codeine could have written. The homage to post-rock is paramount, too.

New
Bermuda very much strengthens the framework
Deafheaven previously erected during their first two albums. There will further
debate as to whether New Burmuda is that album, however Deafheven are band
that make consistently impressive music. They are songwriters. They are
artists. Over the course of their three albums, the vividness is profuse and
there's no reason why that shouldn't continue in the future. Despite what the
metal purists have to say, Deafheaven’s array of influences enhances their eminence
as a forefathers of the genre.

Favourite Tracks: Brought
to Water, Luna, Baby Blue, Come Back.

7.

Artist: Protomartyr

Album: The Agent Intellect

Label: Hardly Art

Post-punk. An era-defining
genre that’s sadly forming into something disposable. Just like dubstep, I’ve
no doubt it will become a dirty term in the coming years, as every man proclaiming
to front a post-punk collective attempts to emulate Ian Curtis, consequently
making the poor man turn in his grave.

Not Protomartyr,
though. In a scene saturated with middleclass pretence and Joy Division
copyists, Protomartyr let their music do the talking. As far as 2015 is
concerned Joe Casey’s lyrics are some of the best that have been put to paper
on the band's third album, The Agent
Intellect. His delivery is defiant, his message, bursting with soul. This
band is egalitarian, yet cynical and snidey enough to match it with the best sceptics.
Their native Detroit an obvious influence, as Casey sinks his fangs deep into
the flesh of the monotonous every day. ‘The Devil in His Youth’ is a nuts and
bolts garage-punk traipse. It almost feels like Mark E. Smith has been pulled
into line to front a conventional rock band. The tones are reminiscent of The
Constantines, as the music is sparse with ample room where you just know Protomartyr
would kill it onstage in the live arena.

Perhaps there’s no
better social commentary this year than what Casey’s sings during ‘Coward
Starve’. "Social pressures exist/And if you think about them all of the
time/You're going to find that your head's been kicked in/We’re gonna do all
for the grind". Mind you, Sleaford
Mods might have something to say about that.

‘Clandestine Times’
is my favourite track on this album. Perhaps my favourite of the year. Its
soaring tremolo and Casey’s mind-bending lyrics brim from the melting pot of
all things you could associate with genuinely good music. The final two pieces
are fascinating, too. ‘Ellen’, a song written about Casey’s mother, is an
earnest close-to-the-bone journey about her battle with dementia. It’s easily
the most personal moment on the album with a shower of dissonance and melodic
fuzz raining over Casey’s brooding ruminations. That leads into the fine closer
in ‘Feast of Stephen’ that has an air of defiance, ending the album brilliantly.

The
Agent Intellect is one of those albums that many will hold close to their heart. Naturally, these albums are often
the best. As mentioned above, post-punk may lose some of its shine in the
coming years, but don’t include Protomartyr in any of the genre’s inquests. The Agent Intellect is clear evidence
that this band stands on their own and will undoubtedly stand the test of time.

Yet another ‘90s
artist that has reformed in the last seven years. Unlike most of their
contemporaries functioning in the space of reformation, Swervedriver have made a
new album. Unlike most of their contemporaries functioning in the space of
reformation who have made a new album, Swervedriver have made a damn good
account of themselves with I Wasn’t Born
to Lose You. In fact, pound for pound, it stacks up very well alongside their
previous albums and from front to back, one could argue that it’s their finest
work yet.

When the conversation
is centred on shoegaze, very seldom is Swervedriver mentioned. Quite simply,
they're less hipster, more brawn. The likes of Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine and
Ride are akin to your downer drugs. Swervedriver are more your upper
proposition. More powder than pills.

The toning throughout
I Wasn’t Born to Lose You is
meticulous. It’s not overdone, which is a trap that even the best guitar based
bands fall into. Adam Franklin and Jimmy Hartridge have initiated a good
balance here. The first eight notes of ‘Autodidact’ form this track into
blissfully melodic one, as Franklin sings “You make me lose my head/And dream
of what might be”. ‘English Subtitles’ - one of the band’s finest ditties - is
beautiful, with its Birdsy chime coupled with Mary Chain bluster. It’s the
perfect centre piece on I Wasn’t Born'. ‘A Wonder’ also a enthrals, demonstrating Swervedriver’s ear-gouging car-rock
attributes. It’s one of Franklin’s finest moments, too, as his voice hasn’t
sounded better.

This is best served
loud. Very loud. As their name suggests, Swervedriver have
been the perfect driving band since their inception. Tracks like ‘Sci-Flyer’,
‘Duel’, and ‘Sandblasted’ have always sounded at their best whilst at speed
careering down a highway. Most of I
Wasn’t Born to LoseYou follows
in much the same fashion, to the point where Swervedriver’s most ardent
listeners will feel as though a void has now been filled. The wait was worth it.

Los Angeles trio,
Marriages, are Emma Ruth Rundle, Greg Burns, and Andrew Clinco. Rising from the
ashes of the mighty Red Sparowes, Marriages graced listeners with a taster back
in 2012 with their debut EP, Kitsune.Since then they have broadened their
sonic template to welcome slightly more orthodox methods into the fold. The end
result is Salome, the band’s debut
LP.

The Impressive Sargent
House label has once again pulled out the stops in providing very good bands a
platform to portray their art. Marriages are yet another collective from a
stable boasting some of the most progressive metal acts in the modern day.
Salome is a conquest in its own right.

Salome feels like a heavy record but
its intentions are a lot more soothing on the ear and that's down to its
immaculate production. The songcraft is consistent, with very few weak points
throughout. Opening track, ‘The Liar’, is a creeping number underpinned by
flanging guitars and Emma Ruth Rundle’s outstanding vocals. Rundle’s
performance is major highlight on Salome.
'Paris-Texas' is riddled with her gentle melodic voice, which is welcomed
alongside hard-hitting riffs and swelling effects that drip to form a sea of
sonic euphoria. The equally impressive 'Contender' is endemic with tones that
made Red Sparowes so distinct and equally impressive. Rundle’s performance on
both tracks track is undoubtedly her finest moment.

It’s disappointing that
many have flocked to the very popular - yet very insipid - Wolf Alice. While
some will see Marriages as a nice alternative, the L.A. trio are in fact the
vastly superior outfit. Salome
provides a longevity that will far outgrow the manufactured sounds of their
trans-Atlantic cousins, along with many other acts functioning in the arena of
riff-a-rolla. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but should most tire of the Wolf
Alices of the world, they can seek solace in the fact that Salome will be there to fill the void. Tracks such as ‘Love,
Texas’ and ‘Contender’ are tracks most artists could only dream of writing.
That’s how vital Marriages’ Salome is
to the current music landscape.Favourite Tracks: The
Liar, Salome, Love, Texas, Contender, Less Than.

4.

Artist: Boss-de-Nage

Album: All Fours

Label: Profound Lore

Boss-de-Nage must
feel like the bastard son. Despite releasing a split EP in 2012 with rising
forefathers, Deafheaven, the world seems to have discarded the San Franciscan
collective like the proverbial ginger stepchild. Make no mistake, Boss-de-Nage (pronounced
Boss-de-Naj) should be held in the same regard as their aforementioned
metal-gaze compatriots. There’s a little bit more meat on the bone with Boss-de-Nage.
More pub, less library, perhaps? In any case, the band’s fourth album, All Fours is a testament to this notion.

As opposed to
Deafheaven, who have copped a profusion of scorn from the metal purists for
their so called ‘hipster’ leanings, Boss-de-Nage don’t receive as much backlash
and you can probably understand why. Their music reaches more extremities
and caters for those with an ear for the heavier sounds, thus making them a
broader proposition for a genre whose fans are generally more primitive and
somewhat unforgiving.

Although deeply
rooted in the realms of black metal, there are other genres at play during All Fours. Scremo and shoegaze are certainly
notables, however stripping All Fours back
to the bone, one could argue that this is a bastardsiation of post-hardcore.

Simply put, All Fours is an unrelenting journey and
certainly not an experience for the faint hearted. Opener, ‘At Night’, is a
perfect representation of Boss-de-Nage and the noise terrorism which they
convey. It portrays the band’s strengths throughout its eight minute existence
- pummelling drums, soaring guitars, drenched in shoegaze and black metal,
which rage below the gravelly shrieks from frontman, Bryan Manning. ‘A Subtle
Change’ and 'Washerwoman' boast spoken-word similarities to Slint’s Brian McMahon before the
aural wrath commences. ‘Washerwoman’ is the opening track’s closest rival for
the album’s highlight, epitomising Boss-de-Nage's depiction of the various genres noted
above. ‘To Fall Down’ and ‘The Most Modern Staircase’ end All Fours with a full head of steam. In fact, I feel slightly bad
for discarding the rest of the album in this examination. All Fours simplydoesn’t
harbour weakness.

Boss-de-Nage not only
grabs you by the throat and demands your attention. From front to back on All Fours, this band bludgeons you to
the point where you fall into a hypnotic trance. Boss-de-Nage pushes, and
eventually disintegrates the boundaries of extreme music and whether or not you
it’s to one’s taste All Fours is a venerable
accomplishment.

Favourite Tracks: At
Night, Washerwoman, In A Yard Somewhere, To Fall Down, The Most Modern Staircase.

3.

Artist: Holy Sons

Album: Fall of Man

Label: Thrill Jockey

Emil Amos: Grails.
OM. Holy Sons. Lilacs and Champagne. For mine, the man is an unbridled genius
and should be held in a higher esteem among the populist realm of alternative
music. His latest opus, Fall of Man
further illustrates his genius. Many may not agree with me on that, simply
because they probably chose to hit the delete button on their MP3 “client” after the
fourth song. Why? Because Fall of Man doesn’t
possess the instant spark that last year’s The
Fact Facer did.

Amos makes his
listeners work this time around. You know, like back in the day when you needed
to give something a good ten listens before you felt something? That’s Fall of Man. I applaud Amos for this
approach. Much like the ethos of an older generation, Amos reaps what he sows.
Sadly, the vast majority comprising today’s youth seem lost in translation with
this idea.

FoM
is homage to the seventies. The Floyd tinged
‘I Told You’ that has you floating in a thick smog of psychedelia. The down and
out beauty of opener, ‘Mercenary World’ and also the title track are vintage
Holy Sons. The head nods to Dennis Wilson are aplenty, too.‘Aged Wine’ is certainly the most rocking
track he has done, nestled into the bosom of psychedelic rock. ‘Trampled Down’
is a misery laden dirge that adds to the brooding grandeur Amos has
successfully carved out during the existence of Holy Sons.Why do I hold so much
adoration for Amos? He has the ability to conjure up those flawless moments
that make you feel numb. Whether it’s a simple chord progression, an elusive
drum shift or a nuance in the chorus. Only great artists have the ability to do
that and there aren’t enough great artists around. It’s no surprise that Fallof
Man has these moments. Amos will continue to provide these instances
because, quite frankly, the man is a genius.

As Jason
Williamson and Andrew Fearn plunge into Key Markets, it’s the live crowd from which I draw the first bit of
amusement. Prior to opener, ‘Live Tonight’, the crowd chants for their
favourite sons, only for some bloke at the back to yell a very audible “You
cunt!” Yup, Sleafords Mods are back, ladies and gentlemen.

In 2015, there were very few
artists subject to intense external pressures on following up from a landmark
album. Deafheaven was one. The other was Sleaford Mods. The incredible Divide and Exit blasted the Sleafords
into a whole new stratosphere.Somuch sothat frontman, Jason Williamson, quit his day job
to focus solely on this project.

Williamson’s razor sharp
tongue, coupled with his trap-like wit, is once again the main feature of Divide and Exit’s follow-up, Key Markets. No one’s safe, none more so
than the political hi-brow blazer brigade who are timely victims of his venomous
wrath. Boris Johnson (“There’s Boris on his bike/Quick, knock the cunt over/The
man of the people is the man without no temples/Blood falls out of his head
like policy/In the U-turn department – ‘Face to Faces’); Ed Miliband
(“Miliband got hit with the ugly stick/Not that it matters/The chirping cunt
obviously wants the country in tatters – ‘In Quiet Streets’), Nick Clegg (“Nick
Clegg wants another chance/Really this daylight robbery is now so fucking
hateful it’s accepted by the vast majority” –‘Face to Faces’).

In parts, Key Markets feels less like the blood
and thunder rant-punk of Divide and Exit
and more ingrained inhip hop. ‘Bronx in
a Six’ certainly feels that way. “You pretend to be proud of ya culture/While
simultaneously not giving two fucks about your own culture/What culture!/Fuck
culture/The blueprint for all control on the dole”. It’s Williamson at his
finest. ‘Silly Me’ also operates within a two-tone Specials pastiche. ‘Cunt
Make It Up’ portrays a brooding undercurrent, a homage to the aforementioned
genre in hip hop, as Williamson spits “You’re shit/You look like Rocket-From-The-Crypt”.
Andrew Fearn must take a vast amount of credit for these sonic explorations and
any calls suggesting the Sleafords are a one trick pony will be instantly
dispelled thanks to these renewed incursions.

The fact that both
sides of politics cop a verbal pasting suggests that Sleaford Mods are not
defined as some sort of rant-esque political orchestra, but in fact an
apolitical contraption. As far as wordplay is concerned, simply put, Sleaford
Mods are an unrelenting beast and Key
Markets is a further testament to their genius. Williamson reminds me of
Gordon Comstock from George Orwell’s Keep the
Aspidistra Flying. His ethos at least. Pure and simple, this is a soapbox
which he occupies and bestows the following message. Everyone can get fucked!
This message is revealed in a manner so on point with the social conscious that it thrusts
Jason Williamson to the apex as modern music’s greatest polemicist. Don’t
snigger with derision at the way Sleaford Mods divulge their message. It’s
plain bloody rude to do so! This is serious stuff. Pull out the linear notes from
the album sleeve and just read. Key Markets is
a complete work of art.

Favourite Tracks:
Live Tonight, You Cunt Make it Up, Face to Faces, In Quiet Streets, Giddy on
the Ciggies.

1.

Artist: Enablers

Album: The Rightful Pivot

Label: Lancashire and Somerset

The great thing about
music is the discovery of fresh sounds. When that union between artist and
listener exceeds all expectations, it further illustrates why we, the listener,
engage in such splendid pastimes. We all experience these moments. Over the due course
of a calendar year, if you’re lucky there will be one band that knocks you on your
arse. 2015 has been kind to me in this instance. My ears were finally graced
with the aural presence of San Franciscan four-piece, Enablers. Or more
specifically, their astounding fifth LP, The
Rightful Pivot.

Peter Simonelli is a product deriving from
the seedy bars and alleyways of San Francisco. Like
Waits, Bukowski (big names, but fuck it, that’s the way I feel), Simoneli
joins the pantheon of meat-raw wordsmiths that American has given birth to over
the years. His poeticism is protracted, persuasive, pure. His delivery is
gravelly; an ode to spirits and nicotine. Similarities with Neurosis’ Scott
Kelly spring to mind (interestingly enough, Enablers’ debut was released on
Neurosis’ label, Neurot Recordings).

The musicianship
throughout The Rightful Pivot is just
as compelling as Simonelli’s narrative presentation. Former Swans guitarist,
Joe Goldring, demonstrates a foggy brand of post-rock-esque guitar that weaves
through Simonelli’s ominous jousting. Things get loud and abrasive when need be.
Some will hear shades of Shellac (tone) and smidgens of Slint (quiet/loud).
Both fair assessments, but by the same token Enablers are their own band.
They’ve constructed their own path.Sam Ospovat’sdrums
on album closer, ‘Enopolis’ are the finest moments behind a drum kit you’ll hold
an ear to this year, with the swinging and tumbling improv proving machine-like.

Eight tracks. I could
dissect each piece but if you’ve come this far, then you’ve read enough of my
babble to last at least the next three lifetimes. I will say this, though. Just find a
place in your house and don’t move. Stick on The Rightful Pivot and simply listen. If you’re not dead inside,
then you will be floored.

Favourite Tracks: Went Right, She Calls After You, Percentages, Look, West Virginia, Enopolis